Having Holzman around meant crawlers got to ask him question like, “When are you going to open a Meatball Shop in my neighborhood?”

Ice cream sammies

The Meatball Shop packs ’em in in Williamsburg

Wakey! Wakey! frontman Michael Grubbs’s in-between song jokes are *almost* as good as his band’s music. Almost!

Day two of BA Grub Crawl Brooklyn found us in Williamsburg at 4:00 p.m. slurping oysters, scarfing meatballs, and drinking something called an “I Got Lillet’d” (mezcal, Lillet blanc, grapefruit, honey, and Angostura bitters). Looking back, we wonder if we ever fully sobered up from day one. (Nope.)

The pun-tastic Lillet cocktail was served at Allswell, a new gastropub from former Spotted Pig chef de cuisine
Nate Smith. Allswell is one of those corner spots on Williamsburg’s main drag Bedford Avenue, and it’s drenched in light on a sunny day like yesterday. So Smith’s five-course tasting menu (more lamb belly with artichokes and morels please, thanks) was nearly overshadowed by the restaurant’s vibe: bright walls, stained glass chandeliers, and peonies on the gorgeous wood bar. “Everyone in Brooklyn is doing that super masculine, dark, speakeasy look right now,” he said. “So we tried to have a little more fun.” You did it, man.

Next, the Brooklyn Winery poured four unreleased varietals (coming June 7!) for crawlers gathered in the private room overlooking their winemaking facility. As glasses were poured, winemaker Conor McCormack described his process behind each, from sourcing grapes to aging. The crowd was visibly charmed when he geeked out about “malolactic fermentation.”

Over to Maison Premiere for oysters, absinthe, and serious outfits–both 2012 hipster (the customers: colored denim, oversized glasses) and 1925 gangster (the employees: suspenders, pocket watches). Things got hazy for few minutes, as they will when you’re drinking from an absinthe drip on a foundation of Sewansecott oysters and sea bream ceviche.

Luckily the next stop was Rye, where chef Cal Elliott edged us away from the border of Drunk Town U.S.A. with hearty, complex crostini. His food was the best of the day, for example, American caviar, smoked sturgeon, and a runny quail egg on a potato galette topped with frisee and horseradish; asparagus tips came wrapped with Benton’s ham and drizzled with aged Balsamic. And of course, bartender Dave Hudec kept the people loose with glass after glass of Southside cocktails.

Elliott’s crostini were the right amount of sustenance but didn’t leave us too full for the last restaurant: The Meatball Shop. People Attacked Those Meatball Sliders. We stepped back to watch on in awe of the phenomenon that chefs
Dan Holzman and
Michael Chernow discovered (started?) when they opened their single-subject restaurant two years ago in NYC’s Lower East Side. The duo tapped a meatball market no one realized existed, opening spots soon after in Brooklyn, the West Village, and soon to come, in Chelsea. As grub crawlers housed chicken meatballs sliders with Parmesan cream sauce and spicy pork meatball sliders with spicy tomato sauce, Holzman told us that they can barely expand fast enough to keep up with the demand, and have been approached multiple times to go out of New York (Vegas wants meatballs, yo). But won’t–yet.

Just when we thought the food assault was ending, trays of ice cream sandwiches appeared. The crowd hooted and hollered, for real.

The night ended with a party at The Knitting Factory and a show from Brooklyn indie band Wakey! Wakey!. Our new boy crush–Wakey frontman Michael Grubbs (no relation. Get it–grub?)–did everyone a favor in between songs: “I worked at Conde Nast so I know that this place is full of beautiful women,” he said. “That means that it’s full of men that are nervous to talk to them. So turn to the beautiful woman by you and say, ‘Hey, would you like to dance with me? Or maybe just make out.’ ”

To Grubbs, Smith, and all the chefs who helped us throw one hell of a moving party yesterday, we say, “Congrats guys, we think you might have gotten more than one of those crawlers Lillet’d.” —Emily Fleischaker